"I do not deplore the loss of my throne, but I feel some, lingering regret that I should have made so few of my fellow-beings happy—so many of them ungrateful. This, however, is the usual lot of princes!" [Footnote: The emperor's own words.—"Characteristics of Joseph II.," p. 23.]
"It is the lot of all those who are too enlightened for their times! It is the lot of all great men who would elevate and ennoble the masses!" cried Lacy. "It is the fate of greatness to be the martyr of stupidity, bigotry, and malice!"
"Yes, that is the word," said Joseph, smiling. "I am a martyr, but nobody will honor my relics."
"Yes, beloved sovereign," cried Rosenberg, weeping, "your majesty's love we shall bear about our hearts, as the devotee wears the relic of a marytred saint."
"Do not weep so," said Joseph. "We have spent so many happy days together, that we must pass the few fleeting hours remaining to us in rational intercourse. Show me a cheerful countenance, Rosenberg—you from whose hands I received my last cup of earthly comfort. What blessed tidings you brought me! My sweet Elizabeth is a mother, and I shall carry the consciousness of her happiness to the grave. I shall die with ONE joy at my heart—a beautiful hope shall blossom as I fall!—Elizabeth is your future empress; love her for my sake; you know how unspeakably dear she is to me. And, now that I think of it, I have not heard from her since this morning. How is she?"
The two friends were silent, and cast down their eves.
"Lacy!" cried the emperor, and over his inspired features there passed a shade of human sorrow. "Lacy, speak—you are silent—O God, what has happened? Rosenberg, tell me, oh tell me, how is my Elizabeth, my darling daughter?"
So great were his anxiety and distress, that he half rose in his bed.
They would not meet his glance, but Rosenberg in a low voice replied:
"The archduchess is very sick. The labor was long and painful."
"Ah, she is dead!" exclaimed Joseph, "she is dead, is she not?"